Haunted
by CoriKay
Summary: Short short story with a touch of Halloween with O'Neill and his son Charlie. Timeline:After Jack's return from Iraq.


Title: Haunted

Title: Haunted

Author:CoriKay

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Genre: Short short story

Rating:G

Warnings:None

Season: Pre-Stargate

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Disclaimer:Written for entertainment purposes only. No money  
exchanged hands. No copyright infringement intended

Haunted

I hear the anger in my son's voice and see his small hands ball into fists.

"Take that back, Ryan!" he yells.

"I won't! You and your dad, you're both scared to go into the haunted house." That's when Ryan spots me, does a quick about face and blends into the throng of blue-shirted Cub scouts.

This had been a bad idea. An afternoon of trick or treating culminating with a tour through the "House of Terror" set up by the local Jaycee group in the fire department training facility. Rumored was that it was scary enough to make "you pee your pants" was all the incentive the boys needed to make it the topic of conversation and boasts for the past week.

I thought I could make it work. But while outside waiting our turn to go in, hearing the blood curdling screams and the sound of rattling chains emanating from the building, I feel my resolve weaken. I'd do anything for Charlie. In fact, I had. In Iraq, I'd stayed alive for him and Sara when it would have been easier to die.

I know inside it will be dark. There will be scenes of horror, too real, too readily recalled. Will hands grab out of the shadows? Will I be able to control the urge to react and fight back?

That's when I yank Charlie out of the line and try to pull myself together. A hasty trip to the concession stand provides a convenient diversion and I'm on my way back to him when I happen upon the altercation.

I hand him his drink.

"Let's just go home, Dad. This isn't any fun." His voice is quiet.

Is he ashamed of me? I know that he probably hears me in the throes of the nightmares that fill my sleep. And I remember the look on his face when he saw me emerge shirtless one day from the bathroom. Wounds heal but scars remain. He never again asked me to take him swimming.

The assistant scoutmaster appears. "Hey you guys ready to go in?" he asks.

I can see the indecision on Charlie's face. We've always been a team. One for all, all for one. He really wants to do this. I don't. I can't. Not today. Maybe never.

When I see him begin to shake his head I stop him with, "You go ahead, Charlie. Maybe you can buddy up with someone."

"Could I go with you Mr. Karl?" Charlie asks hopefully.

"Me? In there? Not on your life." Mr. Karl turns and motions to a teenager who saunters over. He does some quick introductions. "This is my son Scott, Charlie. He loves going through "the House".

I watch Charlie bound off in excitement with the older boy.

The scoutmaster extends his hand. "Jack, isn't it?"

"Yeah." I accept the man's firm but friendly grip.

"I'm Bob. Glad you could join us. Charlie's a great kid."

"His mother deserves most of the credit for that." It's a struggle not to drop my head in embarrassment. "Thanks for helping us out here."

"No problem. I understand you're military and that you recently returned from overseas." His expression is neutral but his tone is telling.

I nod, not sure where he's going with this.

"I was Air Force, myself. Spent some years in-country. In a little out of the way place called 'Heartbreak Hotel'. Maybe you've heard of it."

Hoa Lo POW camp in North Vietnam, I recall. One of the worst.

He waves his hand toward the haunted house. "I tried to go through this thing but never quite made it. Scott understands and I'll bet Charlie will too, if he doesn't already. Kids are a lot smarter than we give them credit for."

"Does it get any easier?" I ask.

"For some things yes, for this stupid kind of crap, no." he laughs.

So do I.

I wait at the exit for Charlie. He runs toward me, his whole face a smile. "It was way cool Dad!" he exclaims. "Want to know the best part? Ryan puked all over when we had to pass the guillotine. You know with the head and blood and guts…"

I put my arm around his shoulders and listen to his chatter as we walk toward the parking lot, praying that any horrors he experiences in his life will be the make believe kind.

The End


End file.
